


Do Ultimate Trainers Get Some Late At Night?

by Savorysavery



Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Comedy, Loud Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Despair, Romance, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 12:45:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6520315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savorysavery/pseuds/Savorysavery





	Do Ultimate Trainers Get Some Late At Night?

**Summary:** Kazuichi decides to keep his boyfriend up late at night.

 **Rated:** Explicit/NC-17

 **Genres:** Smut, Romance, Comedy

 

 **Author's Note:** Another sprint piece, this time for forty minutes. It's rough, it's dirty, and it's a nice addition to a ship I didn't know I like, though honestly, I ship every character in SDR2. Anyways, enjoy this: I'm sure it'll get a nice once over later this week.

* * *

 

Kazuichi came to his boyfriend late at night, when he couldn’t sleep, and couldn’t get off by his own hand.

It was a regular thing now: there were no restrictions on them now that they had all woken up, save for regular therapy, and even here, back on the real island -in cabins that were a lot more like apartments, rather than facsimiles of the simulation-  they had their own lives, working alongside Future Foundation to rebuild the area bit by bit. Perhaps, out of habit, they all claimed cabins in the exact places they’d lived in the game, meaning that Nidai Nekomaru was only one door down, on the right of Fuyuhiko’s home.

It was truly auspicious, being close to his boyfriend of a year: a pleasant way to live near, but not together, to still grow in their own right. After all, despite being twenty-three, he was all seventeen awkward: he supposed that’s what happened to a person when two three years of personal growth was lost to despair, followed by another two finally orienting yourself to the world once more. That much was alright by Kazuichi: they had told everyone -all the Remnants- that they would have a dissociative period, and after a while, they would feel a part of the world once more. True to their words, Kazuichi felt natural now, a part of the Earth, no malice held towards simply existing.

What he felt _wasn’t_ normally, however, was his sex drive. Namely, the fact that he simply _couldn’t_ be sated by his own hand. Call it part of being untouched and still for so long, but Kazuichi practically pawed at himself on the daily, jerking himself in the shower, hands ghosting over him before bed and soon after waking

Hence, being at his boyfriend’s door.

He knocks again, and the door swings in, and Nidai Nekomaru greets him, eyes merry, shirt gone. His skin is slick, as if he’d recently showered and his pants -simple blue sweats- were swung low about his hips, revealing the beginnings of the deep “v” of his wide waist. More charmingly are the glasses situated on his nose: they're simply readers, but they make Kazuichi's heart warm, enough that he stands on tip toe and kisses his boyfriend as soon as he can, before he even speaks.

“Ah! Kazuichi!” Nekomaru’s voice booms the instant the kiss ends. He sweeps up the male into his arms, carries him inside, kicking the door shut with a rattle. “What brings you here so late? I was just about to go to bed!”

Kazuichi squirms as he’s deposited on the bed, Nekomaru settling down next to him with eager blue eyes.  With a sigh, Kazuichi looks down, running a hand through his long, pink hair, then looks up, face screwed up in concentration. “I’m gonna be blunt,” Kazuichi replies. “I need dick, and honestly I ain’t really concerned how I get it from you. I just want it.” His cheeks color. "Please."

Nekomaru’s eyebrows raise a bit, then he hums low, taking off his readers and casting them aside to the couch in his room “Well, I suppose I’m the best one to give it you,” he begins, chuckling. “After all, what are boyfriends for?” Kazuichi knows that Nekomaru is partially joking, but the twinkle that lights up in his eyes, that darkens the blue, hints that he’s up for this too. "Is that the only reason you came?"

"Would it upset you if I said yes?"

"Ha! It'd be predictable," Nekomaru counters, voice booming. "I've worked you over enough to know your habits! I'm the Ultimate Boyfriend: nothing gets past me!" Kazuichi smiles, chcukles a bit, then exhales sharply.

"So will you work me over again?" Kazuichi drops his voice enticingly low, looks up from beneath dark eyelashes. "Nekomaru?"

Kazuichi yelps as he’s flipped over onto his stomach, rough hands dragging down his body, hitching his tank top up, and yanking his shorts down. He isn’t wearing anything beneath -daring for the mechanic- and Nekomaru instantly sets to work, kissing down Kazuichi’s back with a gentleness that has him shuddering.

“No foreplay,” Kazuichi whispers, and he shifts up, pushing Nekomaru back enough to yank off his shirts. Its abandoned to the floor, and he hitches his shorts all the way down, enough that his wide hips are free, and with a hand, reaches back and exposes his hole, holding his right buttock to the side spread out for Nekomaru. “Just fucking, got it!” It's bit off from question, turned to a demand, and paints Kazuichi's cheeks, both from and bottom, with a blooming pink blush.

Nekomaru chuckles: Kazuichi isn’t much different than the simulation, still colors all over when he’s embarrassed. It’s secretly one of his favorite parts of him, something he keeps tucked inside his heart, hides away until now. He adjusts, pulling his sweatpants down, and hauls himself out in his palm, already hard and slick, part from the show of Kazuichi's desire, part from need.

Kazuichi twists and gulps: he _still_ isn’t used to how big Nekomaru is, isn’t used to the girth. Nekomaru is sizable regardless of person, a hefty eleven inches that Kazuichi likes snug inside him, painful or not. It doesn’t help -does, in the case of Kazuichi- that he’s seven inches around, thick _and_ long, and it’s all right behind Kazuichi, a mere breadth away.

Nekomaru shoves his fingers against Kazuichi’s hole without warning, flexes them and smirks as they sink in, Kazuichi keening. “Somebody’s little _slut_ came prepared, didn’t they?” Kazuichi groans: it took a while for him to convince Nekomaru to be a bit more rough with him, to degrade him: it smacked of **despair** at first, but now, it’s both their ways of blowing off steam, of having some feeling of dominance and submission in their own, self-fulfilling ways. It’s far from harm, in Kazuichi’s eyes: it’s a form of trust. Now, when Nekomaru says things like that, it sends shivers up his spine, makes he press his face to the ground, hips high in heat.

“Y-Yeah, I did,” Kazuichi shudders out when Nekomaru prods him again, spreading him on his hand: he came slicked up, knowing what he wanted to get inside him, and feels no shame. “So, are you gonna _fuck me_ now?”

“Hell yeah!” Nekomaru says, and he bends forward, body pressing on Kazuichi, muscles flat against his arching back. “I’m gonna tear that hole apart!" Nekomaru's laugh is joyful, pure light, and Kazuichi nods, eager to get on with the act.

With minimal grunting -and not much warning- Nekomaru forces himself in and Kazuichi screams, sharp teeth digging into the pillow to muffle his cries. Nekomaru is just _so_ big, _so_ thick, and Kazuichi loves it: loves the burn, loves the thudding ache as he is forced to stretch and bear Nekomaru's natural heft. The burn, as it always does, slowly turns to pleasure, and Kazuichi clenches, making Nekomaru still, grunting as he tries to hold back from coming right then and there, to keep from spilling himself into the blindingly warm heat of Kazuichi’s hole. But he holds, pulls on his reserves, and **waits.** For a moment, time stretches out into an unending length of **pause** , and neither shifts, neither moves, holding taut and still.

Then, Nekomaru moves.

There’s no rhythm, just messy limbs and shuddering as they buck against each other, Nekomaru pulling out halfway each time, then ramming back into Kazuichi, his hands gripping those wide hips. He practically pulls his boyfriend to him, a strong arm slung around his front, pinning him there, and Kazuichi doesn’t resist: he’s getting _exactly_ what he came here for, and loves it, drools on the pillow as he moans, begging for more.

“Ne…Nek…omaru,” Kazuichi manages, hips canting back towards him. This is his favorite part, when the burning ache turns to a constant, building pleasure that yanks his balls up, tightens them in preparation for release. “H-Harder…!” He pitches forward again, face pressing into the pillow. "You're so **_big_**..."

“I can’t hear you!” Nekomaru bellows, voice rattling around the room. If he had a whistle, it'd be trilling, sharp and high pitched. But his voice, always booming, is enough to be a call for response, and Kazuichi eagerly answer.

“Ha…Harder!” Kazuichi pants out, unfortunately softer. He feels Nekomaru slow a bit, though the pace is still brutal, still deliciously bruising: clearly, his gasp wasn't enough, paltry in comparison to what Nekomaru wants.

“Louder!” Nekomaru booms, and he brings his hand down on the meat of Kazuichi's buttock, blunt nails digging into the flesh as the slap connects.

“Nekomaru, _fuck_!” Kazuichi spits, jerking his head upright. “Ram it into me **harder**!”

Neither male was -can be, is ever-  _quiet_ during their sexual acts: they scream and grunt, rutting in the msot animalistic of ways to completion, then do it all over again later. Yet Kazuichi's cry is particularly loud tonight, and it echoes around the room, and through the cracked window, whispers outside into the tropical air, and their both sure _everyone’s_ heard. Yet neither can stop now: they’re too invested, too turned on, and Kazuichi is _so close_ , is already on the brink of falling into pleasure. “That’s my good boy,” Nekomaru whispers, and Kazuichi shudders, body blushing from praise. He feels more drool spill down his chin, feels his body heat up more, and exhales sharply, aching his back. “Now get ready!”

Nekomaru bends back over, head close, pumping deeper than before, and the angle is shifted, pressing firmly with every thrust, against Kazuichi’s prostate. He’s practically assaulting it, jamming into it with each hard buck of his hips, and it quickly brings Kazuichi to his end, makes him go still as he spurts out onto the sheets, mouth open in a silent scream Nekomaru comes quickly after, caught in Kazuchi’s grip, spills himself inside with soft, uncharacteristic whimpers, Kazuichi’s flexing hole milking him until he’s half hard and slips out.

There’s only a few moments of silence before Kazuichi speaks. “Again,” he groans, hole still flexing, come spilling out. He looks so debauched, pink hair tacked to his back and hips, lips parted as he shudders through the zipping aftershocks of orgasm. It’s a sight that Nekomaru treasures: his boyfriend, well worked over, quivering and shuddering, hope so bright in his cheeks that he can’t imagine having live a dark past, can’t imagine anything but a bright future. It fills his heart so full that his features soften, concern evident when Kazuichi mutters “Again” once more.

 

“Kazuichi…” Nekomaru begins, but Kazuichi raises his voice, pink eyes desperate. Kazuichi flashes a sharp toothed smile, pink eyes hazy.

“Nekomaru! Just stick it back in! I _need_ you!” He arches his back, grinds back, and before he can prepare, Nekomaru is back inside him, hard and throbbing, and Kazuichi is bent over the bed again, crying out and bucking back, feeling a familiar, loving tightness wind within him.

 

* * *

 

 

Fuyuhiko turned over, burying his face in his pillow, the bed pounding against the wall, metal frame squeaking loudly, amazingly echoing from the cracked window next door. He’d given up pounding on the wall: it had broken the skin on his hand, leaving him with the remnants of a bruise and bloody knuckles, plus, it was useless: it wasn’t as if Nekomaru and Kazuichi were immediately next door. There was a good two meters between their cabins.

Thankfully though, the noise seemed to die down with a pair of grunts, leaving silence once more. With a growl, Fuyuhiko turned over, finally able to sleep. “Thank _God_ , motherfuckers,” he growled, yanking the sheets up around his shoulders. “No goddamn courtesy…” He expected more, perhaps, of his fellow brothers -who are more his own clan than the former Kuzuryuu family given their shared trials- and that includes a general **respect** of sleeping hours, rules and polite society aside.

Clearly, Nekomaru and Kazuichi, the island loudest fauna, _don't_ have that respect.

Heaviness sunk into Fuyuhiko, and he closed his eyes, feeling the first tickling sensation of sleep. Then- “ _Nekomaru, just stick it back in! I **need** you!_ ”A grunt, then a scream on the part of Kazuichi, and a wet **squelch** that made Fuyuhiko shudder, suddenly all too awake, and all too desperate to put distance between him and those sounds. He was amazed that no one else could hear: neither male was known for being quiet.

Pounding resumed, Fuyuhiko jerked up from bed, grabbed a pillow and his key, and walked out of his apartment, hung a sharp right, the noise of the twosome behind him, and walked until he was three doors down the girl’s side. Without any indication, any warning that he's coming in, he unlocks the door, slamming in into the wall.

There's a flash, then the snap of sheets, a blade whispering from a sheath. Fuyuhiko gulps, trying to remain cool, as Peko, clad in a simple white bra and a pair of patterned sleep pants, holds a sword to his throat, red eyes glinting in the dark. "Oh, Fuyuhiko?” Peko groaned, lowering her blade, relaxing instantly and smiling. “Please, try not to surprise me. I could have ended my duty to you as girlfriend.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Fuyuhiko answered, cheeks burning, and he crosses the room flopping down on the bed with his pillow, dead center. “Come back to bed. I’m spending the night.” Peko’s eyes get wide, then she smiled sweetly, adjusting so that Fuyuhiko was on the inside of the bed, and she cuddled up to his back. Within moments, he felt at peace again, ready to sleep. Silence settled in, then-

“Young Master?” Peko asked, voice sweet. By now, the title had become something of a pet name, and it didn’t phase Fuyuhiko much, just made him grunt in acknowledgement. “While I’m not sad in the least…why are you here so late tonight?”

“I’ll tell you in the morning,” Fuyuhiko replied and his faced heated back up, sole thoughts only of the loud slaps of skin that followed him on his flight to Peko’s bed. "It's... a very vocal story."


End file.
